


One Superhero At A Time

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [102]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Everyone Thinks They're Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 18:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15587925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: "No, no, I understand what you’re saying,” Clark says, holding up his hands, “but what I don’t understand is where you’re getting this from.”





	One Superhero At A Time

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: All our friends (mistakenly) think we're doing it. Prompt from this [generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/promptsnsfw).

"No, no, I understand what you’re saying,” Clark says, holding up his hands, “but what I don’t understand is where you’re getting this from.”

Diana’s eyebrows threaten to jump off of her forehead. “Please, Clark. I may not have x-ray vision, but I do have eyes. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“And how’s that, exactly?”

“Like he wants to eat you alive,” Diana says with grin. “As if he could undress you simply with the power of his gaze.”

A blush winds its way down Clark’s cheeks and over his throat and why he’s the one feeling embarrassed when Diana’s the one saying ridiculous things, he has no idea, earthly or otherwise. And she’s still talking.

“We have a word for such affection on Themiscyra, one that captures the depth and breadth of this emotion in ways that most human tongues cannot, and that--”

“That’s wonderful,” Clark says, tugging at the collar of his cape. “Really, Diana. It’s great, etymology and everything--words are so interesting! But I have--there are things that I need to be--I’m leaving now.”

She’s polite enough not to laugh until he’s clear on the other side of the Watchtower, but dang if he doesn’t hear it anyway, even over the timpani pound of his heart. _Me and Bruce?_ he thinks, staring down at Earth turning, at the spin of a storm in the Mediterranean, the startling white of the Alps, trying to get his breathing back under control. _Come on, princess. You’re seeing things._

(Isn’t she? She has to be. There’s no way that Bruce could feel--)

No. Clark shuts his eyes, tries to make himself laugh about it, because no. Bruce Wayne doesn't have a thing for him, doesn't _like_ him. There is absolutely, positively no way.

*****

“Soooooo,” Hal says a week later, perched on the edge of Clark’s balcony, “what’s this I hear about you and Tall, Dark, and Broody?”

“Who?” Clark sticks his head around the kitchen doorway. “And please don’t sit on the railing like that. Somebody might think you're going to jump."

“Oh, right, right. We’re all civvies here tonight.”

Clark ducks outside. “That’s right.”

Hal hops down and makes grabby hands at the glass that Clark’s carrying. “And Clark Kent only has room in his life for one superhero at a time, eh? The man with the big red S.”

“Something like that.”

Hal’s eyes rise over the edge of his martini. “From what I hear, you could say the same about Bruce.”

Clark’s shoulders slump. “Ah. You’ve been talking to Diana.”

“Well, she’s been talking to me. And anybody else within earshot, I might add. She said you told her she was crazy.”

“I don’t think I used those exact words--”

“So she’s been checking in with the rest of us, you know. To get our read on things.”

“Has she?” Clark says, falling into a chair. “Fantastic. Great.”

“The lady just wants data,” Hal says. “I think she’d be willing to admit she’s wrong if everybody else nixed her hypothesis.”

A flare of hope. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Hal says between sips, “but we didn’t.”

Clark registers that his mouth’s hanging open but can’t get it to close. “You--why not?”

Hal laughs. “Because we all think that you’re banging, too. I mean, god, Clark, I know your boyfriend’s supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective but man, he’s shit at subterfuge where the two of you are concerned.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh. Sure you don’t,” Hal snickers. “You’re just used to getting the heat ray stare from him 24/7; to the rest of us, it’s still kind of a shock.” He knocks back the last of his glass. “Is he gonna be here tonight?”

The words feel faint in Clark’s throat. “I don’t know. He--he wasn’t sure that he could come, so he didn’t say either way.”

A snort. “Typical. Another drink?”

“Of course,” Clark says, waving his hand towards the kitchen. “Help yourself.”

In the brief quiet, the sound of the night’s traffic drifting up from below, Clark’s thoughts run ten miles a minute. His palms are wet and it feels like he’s sweating and there’s a weird heat in his chest that makes him feel sort of sick.

He and Bruce are not a thing. He knows that; he’d have to know if it were otherwise, right? Bruce has never said a word to him about this, never looked at him in this covetous way Diana and Hal have described, never done a damn thing to suggest that he wants anything other than the occasionally prickly friendship they’ve sustained all these years.

Has he? Oh gods. What if Clark missed something? What if Bruce  _ has _ and Clark looked right past it?

He scrubs a hand over his face and knocks his glasses askew, makes the world blurry. If anything, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut, he’s the one who’s guilty of looking, not Bruce. He’s caught himself staring here and there, when he’s too beat up to stop himself or Bruce is too out of it to notice or care, when he’s hurt bad enough to loosen his cowl, shrug out of his armor and cape. It’s the only time he’ll let Clark touch him, too, when he’s hurt; the only time that he’ll ask for it, acknowledge that he needs help, that the Batman is at his core only a man, and a fragile one at that. His bones break just as easily, his skin bruises in the same purples and gold, his pain reads as boldly on his face as any injured civilian--it’s just that Bruce doesn’t let most of their teammates see that vulnerability; it’s Clark he turns to when he’s hurt.   
  



End file.
